


10 Genres

by Servetolive



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gen Work, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Slash, Warm and Fuzzies, some of this is whack, wtf is this i don't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: A Soong-centric writing exercise prompting ten genres: "Angst," "AU," "Crack," "Crossover," "First Time," "Fluff," "Humor," "Hurt/Comfort," "Smut," "UST." Originally posted on Livejournal in August 2010.





	1. Angst

**I. Angst**

It's more than a forcefield that seperates them.

And as Data endures the pain surging through him as he resists the shocks, straining to keep his hand steady against his brother's, the smug look in Lore's eyes transmits a message of unmistakable meaning.

_Let's keep it that way, brother._


	2. Alternate Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lore spends time educating Data in a holodeck program. Cute and silly.

**II. AU**

"Lore?"

The grid (along with Lore) vanished into the setting of a large house with polished wooden floors, wealthily furnished. Data's "dork" clothes had disintegrated into... well...

"Lore, where are my clothes?" Data said, doing his best to pronounce each word in a way that could be perceived as annoyed.

From nowhere, Lore's voice buzzes with a computerized twang.

_"Hold on a sec, I'm working on that right now."_

Seconds pass, and Data is still naked, standing alone in what appears to be someone else's lovely house.

"I find this very unamusing, Lore."

_"... I think it's pretty damn funny, actually. According to the ol' M and P, you used to be a nudist when you were a wee baby. See how hanging around humans has turned you into a total fucking prude?"_

"Lore. Clothes, please."

Ten seconds pass, and Data's receptors rejoice in the unique sensation of silk wrapping around his torso. Lore has him dressed in a black dress shirt, black slacks, and black dress shoes. Curiously, he takes a cuff in one hand and rubs the fabric between his fingers, basking in its lingering sensation.

"Like it?"

"What are you intending on putting me through, anyway?"

"You are about to go on your first date, brother," Lore sighs with the happiness of a proud older sibling.

"Oh, but I have also had this experien--"

"Shh, shh, SHH. Whatever it was, it doesn't count."

Keeping his eyes forward as though Lore were directly in front of him, Data said, "Do you not think it more logical to dress the way _I_ would like to dress? To... 'be myself,' as it were?"

An opaque image of a frustrated Lore with crossed arms and a tapping foot appeared momentarily before Data.  
"Stop complicating things and shut up. Your date is here, and I'll be watching."

"What an unsettling thought."

"Start program!"


	3. Crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For this prompt, _crack_ doesn't represent "crack-pairing" as we would normally assume it to mean, but crack-cocaine. For whatever reason, this inspired me more at at the time.

**III. Crack!***

"I cannot permit this to continue."

It was as if he had rehearsed for this situation before. The nine-millimeter was steady in his hand. His vision blurred, shifting in and out of focus between his brother's figure and his front sight.

Lore laughed darkly, and the suffocating conditions of nausea nipped at Data's parameters. He hated his brother.   
He hated the red puffiness that had developed around his eyes, the increased frequency of his neurotic facial twitch, the disgusting leather pants and the bold display of skin that had so recently--so quickly--become a part of him that he couldn't ignore. He hated the vulgar way in which he threw his head back after snorting a line; hated how he wasn't immune to it and the betrayal of his own flesh that came as a result.

The hammer clicked into place, almost too fast; as if Data did not want second thoughts.

Lore stopped laughing and spat onto their carpet.

"You're fucking serious."

He hated his brother. Hated him.

"I love you, Lore."

Sight picture. Trigger squeeze; don't breathe--

 _pop_... goes... the shell... casing.


	4. Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lal interacts with Julian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this one. .-.

**IV. Crossover**

"Lal--"

She turned swiftly, and although her facial expression remained unchanged, he could tell by her posture that now was not the time for informalities.

"I-... I mean, Captain." Bashir shook the wrinkled, used hankerchief from the pocket of his blazer and nervously mopped the sweat from his damp brow.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Will you be... W... What I mean is... Could you join me again sometime?"

Five seconds of silence is acceptable; ten seconds is pushing it, and at twenty, congratulations, Bashir, you've just breached a new plane of awkwardness with _the_ LCDR Data's only daughter--

"I am off-duty this Thursday, beginning at the end of my nightwatch at 0800." She lowered her voice a decibel or so, a negligible way of conveying the feeling that she wanted their meetings kept private.

Bashir perked up, the dreadful fear of rejection blown away by the good Captain's secession of part of her schedule. "Ah. Very good then, Captain. I look forward to our next meeting."

She nodded once and turned to go, her demeanor not unlike her father's at all, a thought that made tremors of excitement return to vibrate up and down Julian's spine. 

He cleared his throat once; Lal stopped and turned around, each action completely seperate from the other.

He did that _thing_ with his eyebrows, the upwards lurch that the holodeck girls can't seem to get enough of. In response, Lal clandestinely flashed a bit of pale flesh in his direction by reaching into the slit of her _qi pao_ and adjusting the nylons. And then she was quickly back in officer mode again, twirling on her loud heel and click-clacking off.

As she walked away, he admired the runs in her stockings, spreading up between her thighs like small creatures running the paths his hands took that evening.


	5. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lal coming of age, painfully.

**V. First Time**

It was humiliating. She couldn't stop.

He made his hands warm for her comfort, and it had helped. There was no one else who could do this for her.

She kept telling herself that.

She didn't go over the first parts in her head, of course. She loathed to remember her father's disappointment, his anger at her not having consulted him first on such matters. She couldn't stand to think of how it had happened, who had initiated the first touch, and then the first kiss, and then the disrobing.

He had made it so that it would hurt less, but so that it would still hurt--he was thoughtful in this wa--

 _NO_ , Lal screamed in her mind. _Suppress any such thoughts._

But when the image emerged of her father's face hovering over her, breathing softly against her shoulder; her fingers clutching desperately at her back as he showed her the extent of his knowledge, she buried her face into her sleeved arm.

There's nothing to let go of. It was perfect.


	6. Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lore and Data attend Lal's graduation from Starfleet Academy, in which they observe some enduring American Military rituals and try not to shed a tear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen, family oriented. Possibly one of my favorites I've ever written, with military culture fresh in my mind.

**VI. Fluff**

"She's remarkable... isn't she?"

Data barely hears his brother's words--and it isn't because Lore is barely recognizable in his befitting twenty-first century style pinstripe suit; it isn't because the field of old-fashioned US Navy dress whites around him (and on himself, most uncomfortably) are blinding him. 

The source of his perceived lack of peripheral thinking stands before him, many meters away, towering above fellow midshipmen at the podium as she delivers the final lines of her speech as class valedictorian.

"Yes... she is."

_Before me--and on this stage--stands a sight that existed only in the imaginations of our predecessors; that of a field of beings of all different colors, shapes, sizes, cultures, and walks of life... standing together, wearing the same uniform. Standing as one, with the unwavering belief that beyond the confines of this holo-auditorium; this planet's atmosphere, and this small system beholds a most fascinating future and unlimited wealth of knowledge._

There is a standing ovation, so loud that Lore irately tugs at one of his earlobes before giving in to the jubilee and applauding his niece.

"She's long winded like you, too."

Gold trickles from the corner of his eyes.

"... That she is, as well."

Her last word--and it isn't a word really, just a loud, gutteral, almost _beastly_ sound, strange to hear from her delicate lips--is the ancient battle cry of the old Navy.

_"Oo-rah!"_

The wild response vibrates and pulses; Data's own processes feel as though they could be disrupted by the sound. Combination covers fly into the air.

His head follows Lal as she returns to her seat. Their eyes meet, and the greatest symbol of her maturity shines through the calm, collected look in her eyes as she nods to him, ever so slightly, containing the joy she undoubtedly feels. 

The auditorium begins shifting as the new officers begin to prepare for the pass and review.

"...What--are you _crying?_ " Replacing his sunglasses, Lore shakes his head and returns his attention back to his niece. "Come _on._ "

\--

The sense of excited urgency weighs heavily in the air as the ensigns scramble to gather their belongings from their dorms to report to their first places of duty. Data stands at the bottom of the Academy's steps with his brother as Lal approaches them, her belongings in tow--she looks very different in her teal-topped Phase B uniform; she holds herself with an air of professionalism that almost saddens Data. 

(He tries to completely disregard the fact that she has applied a subtle amount of make-up to her face, and uses a small, barely noticeable, yet undoubtedly feminine black clip to pin her hair behind her left ear.)

"I do not have much time to give well-rounded goodbyes, Father."

"I understand."

The look Lal gives her uncle is enough to explain to Data how it became possible for Lore to set aside his piracy activities for this. Sighing, the older android kneels down and removes his glasses, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes creasing as he turns up a corner of his mouth.

"Uncle, thank you for all that you have taught me. I promise not to forget your most valuable lesson."

"What's that, darling? Not to trust anybody?"

Her hair swished as she shook it. "No. Not to give it up to the first man that shows interest in me."

Hushed laughter explodes from his lips as he stands, patting her head. "Your girl says the damnedest things, brother, the _damnedest_ things."

"She most likely learned them all from you, Lore."

An announcement reminds all newly commissioned officers to have signed into their crew rosters by seventeen hundred, two years from now.

"Father, I have other outprocessing duties to take care of before I attend my first briefing."

"Of course."

They stand awkwardly for a moment, both fully aware of their attire: Data, despite being in an ancient form of uniform, was still in uniform and therefore, still Commander Data at the moment, as opposed to "Dad."

"It would seem that the appropriate action at the moment would be to embrace, but according to Starfleet Regul--"

"For the love of God," Lore said loudly through his teeth, "It's the fucking twenty-fourth century!"

The warm, soft feeling of his daughter in his arms was one that he would long for many days afterward.

"Father," she said quietly, pulling away from his chest long enough to gaze into his eyes. 

"Thank you for my life."


	7. Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lore and Data being dumb in the holodeck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly my 22-year-old immature self making fun of an infamously bad D/L story modeled after the "Descent" two-parter.

**VII. Humor**

Frankly, Data could not see what was so arousing about a red, rubber ball being shoved into ones mouth while spittle oozes through the corners and dampens their chest.

The pull of his limbs in completely different directions, exposing his genitals... okay, even to _him_ this was sounding so twentieth-century.

Fully decked out in antiquated bondage gear--leather crossing his chest, a ridiculous eight-point hat and knee high riding boots--Lore emerges, whip in hand (as Data had predicted), and starts cracking it at the younger android, with no visible effect. Data simply glares at the artificial welts that appear thanks to the program.

"You like that, bitch?" He purrs. Data rolls his eyes, and mumbles something loudly, its meaning lost into the confines of the gag. Not to mention being drowned out by the terrible, discordant sounds of antiquated Nordic metal from the start of the millenium.

"What's that? You begging for more? I'd like to hear _that_ at a higher volume, slave." He steps forward and with one gloved hand, unfastens the strap that holds the ball gag in place. Saliva drips out of Data's mouth, and he spits.

"Lore, I do not wish to continue this program."

"What? Aww, whassamatter? You don't like leather and whips and chains and being called disparaging terms and--"

"It is not that I do not enjoy such practices, Lore." He moves his wrists very lightly; the chains snap out of the wall, plaster scattering on the ground. "... But do you not find all of this... Computer, stop music. ... Too glamorous? Pretentious? Tedious? _Stupid?_ "

"Data, what do you think the point of all these mirrors are for?" Lore chirped evasively.

Data moves his neck to look at each mirror--the ceiling, the two walls on either side of him, the one on the floor, and the one in front of him.

"Obviously, to give a variety of views to those committing sex acts. Or to fuel the ego of the dominant personality by looking at himself as he fucks a submissive party. Or possibly to fuel the feeling of submission as the submissive party witnesses himself be fucked by the dominant party. Or--"

"Actually," Lore interrupts, removing his hat. "I just wanted to show you how much of an idiot you look like right now from five different angles. Computer, end program!"


	8. Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lal gets one last chance to see the ghost of her father in her uncle's features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part in the "Lal Captains Her Own Ship" head-canon of mine.

**VIII. Hurt/Comfort**

The small vessel had put up a good fight, but as her tactical officer had predicted, it had outshot itself--its warp core was damaged to the point where the craft was rendered immobile, but a breach was nowhere in sight. If shut down for a period of time and undisturbed repairs could be made in a matter of hours that would allow it to resume its blast through the edges of the Alpha Quadrant at breakneck speed.

"Channel's open, sir," Lieutenant Toussaint's voice brought the attention back to the viewscreen, still displaying the immobile vessel. She stood from her chair and, pursing her lips, delivered her prologue sharply and aggresively, its staccato just short of belligerent.

"This is Captain Lal Soong of the Fedration vessel _Arleigh Burke._ Your vessel has been identified as having committed acts of grand theft under the laws of the United Federation of Planets. I must demand that you turn you and your vessel over to us immediately to be prosecuted or risk being destroyed."

For several minutes, there was no response, and Lieutenant Toussaint let her know.

"Suggest we ready the phot--"

The viewscreen blipped, and the bridge crew either gasped or started, collectively. Lal's eyes widened, her processes functioning. Her chest tightened. 

A chuckle, and then the android opened his smooth mouth. 

"Lal Soong..." A contemplative touch to his chin. "Lovely ring to it, don't you think?"

She was only aware of how many times she blinked before he spoke again.

"Well, niece... you and your crew look at though you've seen a ghost."

It took too many seconds for her to choke out a response.

"... Un.. Uncle Lore."

"So you _do_ remember me!" He swiveled in his chair and leaned forward on his control panels, cradling one side of his face in his hand, dreamily. Engineering goggles sat firmly on the top of his stringy hair; he looked not a day older than the last time he saw her: at the steps of the academy on graduation day. "I never hear from you these days; you don't _call_..."

"... I had no idea that you were alive."

It had become obvious that the captain was drawn into her own world as she stepped closer to the screen, as though she intended to reach out and touch the visage with her fingers. Nobody said a word.

"I'm quite sure I've heard that before. Hmm... But I don't think I'll hold that against you, child. Anyway, I suppose you're going to ask for those artifacts back."

"... Uncle--"

"What do you want with these old things anyway? Their existence has been recorded and studied for hundreds of years; I doubt they'd miss the actualy _thing_ anyway."

"Uncle..."

"You all must be terribly bored, going after little old me."

A new voice cut into the conversation from Lal's end; the female helmsman on the left side had stood up, saying in a voice that was much too indiginified, "You've murdered _how_ many Federation colonists to get a hold of your precious cargo?"

" _Shut up,_ Ensign," Lal hissed in a voice that her crew had yet to hear her use in their four years together. Peering at the Captain through squinted, disbelieving eyes, the ensign sat back down, slowly.

"Interesting motley crew you have there, niece."

"Uncle," she said, her voice firm and cacophonous. "... _Please._ "

Her last word was a soft, whispered plea; another tone she had never used in the presence of her subordinates.  
Lore glared at her for a moment, and for those whole ten seconds, she was terrified that he would be angry with her.

Finally, he sighed.

"I suppose I can't place you in such an awkward position, Lal." He rolled his eyes and yawned. "Lower your shields."

Lal turned back to her tactical officer.

"Do what he says."

"Sir, I really don't recommend--"

_"Do it!"_

Her shrill voice would echo in the bridge--and in the ears of those who heard it--for days.

Lore seemed as though he were holding back an explosive fit of laughter.

"Y'know, Lal, I used to think," he said as he began pushing buttons on panels, "that you weren't cut out to be a Starfleet captain."

"... Did you?" She was feeble again, reduced to her natural, helpless, child-like state.

"Yes. Transporting goods now. I see that I was wrong."

A beat. "Acknowledged," Toussaint said seconds later, "The transporter room reports that all four artifacts have been returned unharmed."

"Why is that, uncle?"

"Because you know how to take a risk."

Time was running out. She wanted to reach into the screen and hold onto him, keep him from going anywhere. He's alive. They're the last ones. She's not alone. He's right there, in front of--

"Looks like our brief visit is over, my dear," Lore said, the sincerity in his voice making her bottom lip quiver.

"Oh, come now, Lal. You can't have possibly made me give up my cargo to save your reputation only for you to ruin it by crying in front of your subordinates." He rolled his eyes again and grinned. "What would your father say?"

With seemingly little effort, she straightened her face out. She ignored the hard stares and the heightened pulses of the officers around her. 

"He would tell me that my sadness makes me appear in an unprofessional manner; hardly representative of the Starfleet uniform."

"Something like that, probably. Now, then; I'd best be going before you change your mind."

"Uncle--"

"I wouldn't bet on never seeing me again, niece--although, for your sake, it would probably be for the best."

He blew her a kiss, and then the screen fizzed and he was gone; the view of his quaint ship taking off at warp five returned to the screen.

Already, the crew was buzzing around; orders and bearings and just _words_ being thrown around the bridge to prepare for a pursuit.

The second she heard that word from her navigational officer, "pursuit," she shouted the word "no" in such a manner that everyone instantly froze in place.

"... Captain?"

"Set a course to Deep Space Six at warp four. Now, ensign." She began to make her way to the ready room. "I don't want to hear another word about this matter until further notice." She didn't even turn around to say it before entering.

"Computer, soundproof and lock door."

It was only then that she allowed herself to throw head into her hands and let the sobs consume her, storm through her body. She missed her father, and Lore was the only one who knew it. Uncle was the only one left, besides her.

On her desk, there was a small holographic photo of the three--the only moment when they were all together, during a picnic after attending a seminar at the Daystrom Institute. It was a rare occurence to see her father in civilian clothes and she remembered how delighted she was to witness it. Something about the way the picture displayed them--her hands around Data's waist, his hand resting atop her head and Lore's arm draped across his shoulders--was her only comfort in knowing that she was alone.

It was the first time in her life that she was too anguished to even consider looking at it.


	9. Smut

**IX. Smut**

"He is watching us."

"Sh. Just don't look at him, brother," Lore whispers into his brother's cheek. But as his lips dip down to close over his new sibling's mouth, he does indeed look his father straight in the eye.


	10. Unresolved Sexual Tensioin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juliana has a conversation with her son.

**X. UST**

"What's the big deal," Lore says, his hands forming a diamond on his back as he walks stiffly to his now lived-in isolation unit. "It's not like it was a _violation_ or anything."

Juliana, exhausted, was not at all up for Lore's infamous plays on words. "She was barely sixteen years old, Lore. You _know_ better."

" _Every_ one's a victim in some way or another, Julie," he said, and the use of her diminuitive name makes her flinch. He steps inside the isolation unit and spins around, hands still glued to the small of his back.   
"Even you."

He was naked before she had even picked him up and deactivated his abilities to control his own movement, and now she truly regretted it. Her attempt at showing little to no emotions on her face failed, and she saw her... "son" relish her misfortune with a broad, charismatic show of his teeth.

"Back away from the forcefield."

Surprisingly, Lore obeyed until the moment she allowed him the use of his own functions. He rubbed his wrists as though he had been restricted by actual cuffs.

"Your father wants you to spend your time here and think about what you've done." She says the whole thing with her arms crossed, as though she feels like an idiot for making such a statement.

"But while I'm in here, who is going to keep you company?" He leans forward and opens his mouth before pronouncing the first syllable. " _Mother?_ " She could never quite figure out exactly what it is he is trying to emphasize by saying her name like that.

"I knit, I read, I do gardening... I can resume any of those activities now that you're in _here_ and I don't have to worry about what in God's name it is you're doing out _there._ "

"But it isn't the same, is it?" His voice glided through the air, one of the traits she hated about him: why did he have to be so similar to Noonien; why did his traits have to mirror the ones that trapped her in this ridiculous man's fantasy in the first place? "Nothing can replace the warmth of a man's naked body, wrapped around you and blanketing all of those insecurities--"

"You're beginning to sound just like your father with that 'psychosexual manipulation' bullshit." The words were like an accusation; the rarely used swear word almost exploded from her mouth.

Lore stood with his weight leaning against one foot. She tried not to pay any attention to the lean curves of his body, to his likeness of the alluring man that had once been her husband, or to the sizeable mass that hung between his legs invitingly. His legs moved forward, for some reason, the fact that she had activated a forcefield completely eluded Juliana's mind.

His lilted mouth opened, and the words flowed like sweet sap from a tree.

_"Floating on the wind again, on the tail of my quarry, on a woman weak for charming men, who's holding what I need."_

She turned her back to the forcefield as he stepped closer, shutting her eyes. "I won't listen to this."

 _"She'll leave her window cracked for me, and I'll draft in like the breeze--"_  
She whirled around and mustered as much strength as she could to project some kind of stabbing feeling from her eyes and deep into her son's heart.

"You're disgusting."

She knew Lore noticed the quick glance downward, no matter how negligible or fast it was. He made sure to deliver his last words in a way that would make a later visit from her imminent.

"My father was a charming man, and I learned it all from he."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Lore sings is [The Wondersmith and His Sons](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE8FECzFVn8) by Astronautalis.
> 
> Hope someone enjoyed these. :)


End file.
